Teach
me the language of stones
Words
furtive as animals that prowl
Suburban
Mississippi the smell of burnt umber
As
if all the street lights cast the same aroma
In
fine pools one two three four and so on down
The
otherwise dark avenue where a fox
Slouches
from yard to yard pausing only to pounce
Beneath
first this then that magnolia looking for
What?
Some answer even god refuses to lay
Prometheus-like
into these arms of mine?
Shell
of a thought that heaven knows
Seduces
the simple needs of a weak will gone
Down
the exclusively sinuous water
Rushing
in the empty blood of wisteria
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